


Hatred

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Bruce Wayne hated himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Bruce doesn’t like himself a lot, especially when it comes to his kids. I can relate to that first part. 
> 
> I don't know when I wrote this really, or why. It's short.

Bruce Wayne hated himself.

And it’s not like that was a secret, or that hard to figure out. No one spoke about it, but everyone knew. Of course they did.

But it was the worst in moments like this.

Moments where his family, his allies, his _children_ , jump to his rescue. From ten years old to thirty, fighting for him when he couldn’t. When he was tied up and caged, and could do nothing but watch.

Watch as his youngest barely dodged a knife, and ignored the blood pouring down his arm. Watch as the son he’d already wronged and lost took a punch to the face that bent his nose to a permanently impossible angle.

And that wasn’t even the worst he had to witness.

Crying wasn’t his thing – but he wanted to do it right now, even as the battle was won. Even as his children picked their broken bodies up off the floor, and immediately moved to help each other.

Cassandra tended to Jason. Damian helped Tim, but the older realized the younger was much worse off, and quickly picked him up instead. Dick checked on them all, before coming for him.

“Bruce,” Dick breathed, unlocking the cage. Rushing in to cut off the chains. “You okay?”

Bruce didn’t say yes, even though he was. He didn’t say anything. Just watched over Dick’s shoulder at his kids. At his most loved, and most precious. Stared until he could move, and even then, immediately took hold of Dick to stabilize him. Dick didn’t mention it, but he didn’t have to. Bruce saw the swollen, bleeding knee from across the chamber.

The hate didn’t subside when they all got home alive, of course. As always, it only got worse, as he helped the kids onto cots and gurneys. Helped Alfred assess the damage.

He learned a long time ago – it’s always much, much worse than it looks.

So he fell into his normal punishment. Denied himself sleep, and worked himself ragged. Went through case files, tested evidence on the computer. Changed bandages and IVs, and even made Alfred tea, when he had to.

Stewed in his self-loathing, when he didn’t.

He was at the computer, watching the police station security footage of tonight’s captor being put in his cell, when he heard a whine from the medbay. He moved instantly, already knowing it was Damian – already knowing he’d let that boy down enough.

But by the time he got there, he found there was nothing for him to do, as Damian was already up and in Cassandra’s arms, with Dick hobbling up behind her to help as well.

She didn’t need it, though, as Damian was still groggy, slumped carefully against her shoulder, arms wrapped gratefully around her neck. She was rocking him slowly, cheek pressed against the crown of his head.

“Nightmares?” Dick asked, even as he gently, and a little uselessly, ran his hand up and down Damian’s spine. Cass nodded. Dick hummed knowingly, fiddling at one of Damian’s bandages in concern. “I hate when he gets these. Always tends to be after a night like this.”

And again – Bruce was left to only watch, as his elders did the job he should be. As they comforted their battered and haunted kid brother like he was one of their spawn, not his.

The hate rolled in his stomach.

Dick noticed him now, and looked up with a smile. “He’s okay, B. Nothing injury related. Just a little bad dream. Sorry to take you from your case.”

“No, it’s.” Bruce paused, to watch Damian’s eyes open, just slightly. His youngest blinked slowly, then hid his face along Cassandra’s shoulder. Dick just glanced back at him, grin still bright, and kissed his cheek. Bruce’s mind blanked, and he heard himself ask: “…How did you all get to be so kind?”

Cassandra and Dick looked at each other, and even Damian scoffed quietly. Dick’s grin grew, and Cassandra sported one of her own, as his eldest looked back.

“Well, you’re a pretty great teacher, Bruce.” Dick said simply.

Bruce blinked in surprise, and even felt his face heat up a little bit.

“…Come sit with us?” Cassandra asked quietly, glancing at an empty nearby cot. Bruce nodded mindlessly, and Cassandra turned towards the bed, climbing up effortlessly, even with Damian still clutched in her arms.

Bruce came up on the other side, barely settling onto the mattress before Cassandra was curling into his side, Damian sandwiched carefully between them. Dick hopped away to check on Jason and Tim, before coming back and flopping into the empty cot next to theirs, watching.

His grin never left his face, even as he curled into his pillow and whispered: “Get some rest, B.”

“Mhm.” Cassandra agreed. Damian just nodded silently as he turned into his father’s chest.

Bruce let out a small chuckle, wrapping one arm around Cassandra’s shoulders and the other across Damian’s side, and leaning his cheek against his daughter’s head, slowly closing his eyes.

Yeah. Bruce Wayne hated himself.

But there were some moments – and some people – that sometimes made him hate himself just a tiny bit less.


End file.
